


Last Fight, First Battle

by AnnieforSimonsflower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark, Ficlet, Heroes to Villains, Love/Hate, The Quidditch Pitch: Going Under
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-18
Updated: 2006-02-18
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieforSimonsflower/pseuds/AnnieforSimonsflower
Summary: Sometimes things don't end the way you planned.





	Last Fight, First Battle

**Author's Note:**

> This story is archived on behalf of Simons_flower, who passed away in 2009, by her designated archivist.

** Last Fight, First Battle **

Hidden.

I slammed myself against the wall, flattening myself out of sight, wand raised.

“I think he went this way,” Malfoy the elder called, voice moving away from me just as I’d hoped.

Closer, a feminine voice whispered.  “I think he’s near.”

A deeper voice replied, “He is.”

I slipped further into the shadows.  My wand was trembling from the nearness of the last two voices.  _Damn linking spell she made us perform._

“R –”

“Shh.”

_Always the tactician, use no names._

For once, I was glad for my dark hair as it made blending into the shadows much easier.  Sneaking into the Manor hadn’t been a problem despite the linked wands.  The damn spell made it easy for them to follow me as well, unfortunately.

I slipped into an alcove just as they came around the corner.  He’d darkened his hair and skin with spells so the radiant glow of red hair and pale skin didn’t give him away.  She’d merely cut her hair short enough to curl around her head like an odd cap.

She looked so _right_ next to him that I, yet again, cursed myself for ever interfering in their relationship.

“Close,” he rasped.  She nodded crisply in response.

Closing my eyes, I performed a silent Disillusionment Charm, hoping the shimmering would be invisible in the darkness.

She moved nearer, hand trailing along the wall for orientation in the dark.  I moved back deeper into the alcove.  He brought his hand down on her shoulder when she stopped in front of my alcove.  I stopped breathing.

She reached forward, nearly touching me, before a spell rang out down the corridor.  Red light blasted across her wrist.  The sharp, metallic smell of blood drifted to my nostrils.

He pulled her back against himself before dropping into a crouch.  Almost simultaneously, he fired a Reductor Curse in the direction the spell came from.

It was followed by the sounds of crumbling stone, shouts and cursing.  Smiling grimly, I closed my eyes to concentrate.  They all screamed when a tremor shook the Manor.

When I Apparated to the ballroom, the bright light was a shock to my eyes.

“I was wondering if you’d make it here,” Voldemort crooned.

I turned slowly.  The previous year of intensive study had allowed me measures of control over our connection.  It was closed, though I could feel him trying to push it open.

“I’m here now,” I growled.

“Have I told you how very much you resemble your father?” he purred, gliding down from his throne-like perch to stand in front of me.  I met his gaze unflinchingly.  His lips parted, the corners turning up like melting wax reversed.  It was a moment before I realized he was smiling.  “Very much.”

“No, I can’t say that you’ve mentioned it,” I replied.

“Same defiant attitude, same handsome looks.”  He smile more grotesquely.  “Tell me, do you bugger like your father as well?”

I had thought nothing that Voldemort did could revolt me any longer, but the idea of he and my father together – or that he’d watched my father and someone else – turned my stomach.

He trailed one pale grey finger down my cheek.  “I didn’t always look like this.”

Nausea rose at the memory from a diary of a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle.  I said nothing.

“Very well,” he dismissed, turning back to his throne.  After settling himself, he glared down at me.  “Are you going to kill me?”

I raised an eyebrow and my wand.  “Are you ready to die?”

Voldemort was saved from answering by the main doors bursting inward, allowing Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley to tumble inside.  They wrestled, rolling halfway across the floor, coming to a rest nearly at my feet.

My attention was torn from the wrestling pair by Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy entering the room engaged in a running firefight.  The activity seemed a cacophony of light and sound; the grunts and thuds from the fighting men were lit by spell-light from the duel taking place over their heads.

Then it ended quite suddenly:  Hermione slit Malfoy’s throat.  The coppery scent of blood, his father’s blood, seemed to take the fight out of the younger Malfoy.  He froze under Ron.  Ron took advantage and laid a rib-cracking punch before rising.

He stood, brushed himself off and held his hand out to me.

“Let’s go, Harry,” he said.  I looked at Hermione, who was pale but clearly impatient to leave.

_They think they’re rescuing me._

“No,” I said.

They stood like they’d been Petrified, stunned at my response.

Before either could say something, Malfoy the younger began to stir.  I watched from the corner of my eye as he raised his wand, pointed it at Ron, and began to mouth the Killing Curse.

As nonchalantly as I could manage, I raised my wand and shouted, “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

I didn’t know it was possible for Hermione to pale even more.

Death Eaters filtered into the room, pausing briefly to look at Malfoy the elder’s slit throat and pool of blood and Malfoy the younger in the frozen pose of death by the Killing Curse.

Hermione clutched Ron’s arm tightly.  I, however, felt more calm than I had in a very long time.

With Ron and Hermione still frozen in shock and the Death Eaters stilled by Voldemort, it was a stalemate.  Ron and Hermione were waiting for me just as the Death Eaters were, in their own way.

Hermione shuddered when I smiled.

“Are you going to kill anyone else?” Voldemort asked, sounding bored.

_Am I?  Yes, I believe I am._

Still smiling, I turned my wand on Hermione and cast the Killing Curse.  The look on Ron’s face as she fell to the ground was priceless.

On automatic pilot, I shifted slightly to cast _Sectumsempra_ on the Death Eater to laughed at my actions.  Though I didn’t take my eyes from Ron, I knew my spell was true when the laughter died on screams.

When the screaming stopped, I held my hand out to Ron.  “By my side or die.”

His hand clenched reflexively on his wand, the linking spell inevitably leeching Dark magic.  Ron’s only other response was a glance down at Hermione before looking back at me.

With a resigned sigh, I turned to Voldemort.  I found myself annoyed by the pleasure in his gaze.  With as little thought as I gave to killing Hermione, I lifted my wand and cast the spell the three of us created to kill him.

Most of the Death Eaters screamed in agony upon Voldemort’s unceremonious death as their Marks were burned away.

With deliberate sloth, I ascended the dais where Voldemort’s corpse lay disintegrating.  A simple _Scourgify_ cleared his throne.

I sat down, arms resting on the arms of the throne, hands lightly gripping the snake-head end caps.  For the first time since learning that spell, I felt settled.

_I’m sure Hermione didn’t know the power of the Dark that would be unleashed inside me when we created that spell.  I’m sure if she had, she wouldn’t have done it._

I looked at Ron, still frozen next to Hermione’s cooling body.

Holding out one hand, I offered a final time:  “By my side or die.”

He blinked and seemed to shake himself.  And then he chose.


End file.
